All the World's a Stage
by Scrawlers
Summary: Sometimes when you put on a smile for the stage, you forget to take it off. And sometimes, if you wear it for too long, you need someone to help you remove it when the time comes. [Klavier and Athena, friendship.]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ace Attorney or any of its properties.

**Notes: **This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here.

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><p><strong>All the World's a Stage<strong>

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><p>Friendship with Klavier Gavin was a bit like a romanticized affair, in that it was almost impossible to display it in public. Simple, ordinary things like going out for a bite to eat or going to see a movie were ridiculously difficult, not just because of the fans, but because of the paparazzi that insisted on following Klavier everywhere he went, despite the fact that the Gavinners had been broken up for over a year. Part of Athena welcomed the attention, found the idea that <em>she <em>could be the center of a tabloid scandal hilarious and felt tempted to invite the paparazzi over during one of their hangouts, tempted to dare them to take her picture but only if they could get her good side. Another, larger part of her felt exasperated and even a little annoyed with it all, though, especially when she heard Klavier's voice become a little more tight when he told her that they were likely going to be trailed on their way to the smoothie shop.

So in the nine or so weeks that they'd been friends, Athena got used to most of their contact taking place through e-mail or text message, and otherwise got used to quick darts out before they went back to either her apartment or his penthouse to watch movies or play music. It was easiest, all things considered, to hang out in places where the media vultures couldn't follow, especially after the rock concert they'd attended together got plastered over every magazine in town, the band in question barely mentioned as gossip writers wondered whether or not Klavier Gavin had found himself true love at last. (Though truthfully, most of the discomfort that came from that round of media coverage was less because of the blatant lies on the glossy pages and more because of Apollo's attitude toward it; he was sullen and sour for _weeks _every time the magazines were so much as mentioned and Athena _still _couldn't figure out why. Really, if he'd wanted to go to the concert with them that badly, all he had to do was say so.) That was what landed them back in his penthouse one evening, relaxing in the room that Klavier had outfitted as a small, homey music studio. As Athena stretched out on a chaise lounge like a cat, Klavier composed music on a keytar, pausing every now and then to ask for her input or jot the notes down on blank pieces of sheet music. It was relaxing, peaceful, and yet . . .

Athena frowned, her fingers subconsciously stroking widget.

And yet, even after two months, the feeling still hadn't gone away.

"Something wrong, _fräulein_?" Klavier had paused in writing the sheet music to look up at her, and as their eyes met, he smiled. Athena smiled back, though even she could feel that her smile wasn't as enthusiastic or bright as it usually was. "It isn't like you to be so quiet."

"You say that like I have a big mouth or something," she said, and Klavier's smile only grew as he turned back to the sheets.

"What can I say? Being back in the studio brings out the honesty in me." Klavier had a teasing lilt to his words, a certain little note that told her he was half hoping she'd rise to the bait, but she chose to ignore it—or at the least, chose not to respond in the exact way he wanted her to, the way she was sure Apollo would have if he were in her place. Athena sat up and pressed her lips together in a thin line, her heart thumping a steady _this is it, just go for it_ rhythm in her chest, and after giving Widget a small squeeze to give herself courage, she said:

"Well, actually, there is something on my mind—something I wanted to ask you about. It's . . . kind of about your past cases."

"Oh?" Klavier looked up at her again, but it wasn't his eyes returning to hers that gave her the surge of confidence she needed, but a small note of genuine surprise and even a little wariness she heard in that one syllable. _Genuine. _Open, honest. Something that, over the two months they'd been friends, she wasn't very used to hearing from him. "What about them?"

"Well . . . it's about two of them in particular, kind of." Athena sat back on the lounge, and lifted one finger to toy with her half moon earring. "I hope you won't feel too weirded out, but I got a little curious and decided to do some research into your past cases. You know, see what sort of cases rock god Klavier Gavin would involve himself in."

Klavier chuckled, and set the keytar aside so he could relax back himself. "I took whatever cases were assigned to me, ordinarily. Being a prosecutor isn't about prestige, ja? I kept it separate from my career with the Gavinners."

Athena raised her eyebrows. "Really? Didn't seem that way at the mock trial. And from what Apollo tells me, you turned almost every trial you had with him into an air guitar rock concert."

Klavier grinned. "He said that, did he? Well, Herr Forehead has a flair for the dramatic all his own—a tendency to turn a falling star into a meteor shower, if you will." Athena furrowed her brow, feeling a bit bemused at the metaphor, but before she could question it, he continued. "Anyway, _fräulein_, you were saying about my cases?"

"Right." Back on track. She needed to focus. As they'd been speaking, the open, honest note his voice had taken, replaced once again by that thin veil of . . . it wasn't deceit, Athena didn't think, at least not in the way guilty witnesses lied on the stand. Klavier wasn't _lying_, he hadn't ever been strictly _dishonest _with her, but there was a thin veil of discord over everything he said, like a glass door that was so clean you didn't notice it was there until you bumped into it and realized it would keep you out all the same. "I looked into a couple of your past trials and saw that two of the most recent ones . . . well, they hit kind of close to home, didn't they?"

"Mm, did they?" Klavier said, his voice thick with affected nonchalance. But it was just that—_affected. _Athena frowned as Klavier stood up and headed toward the door of the studio, his hands in his pockets. "I haven't really thought about it. I am a bit thirsty, though. Mind if we move this to the kitchen? At least temporarily."

"Yeah, sounds good to me," Athena said, and she followed him as he stepped out into the large hallway, her long strides allowing her to easily match his loping pace. "But anyway, yeah, it definitely looked like your last two cases hit really close to home. I mean, one of them ended with your bandmate being incarcerated for smuggling and murder, and the other landed your big bro with a double murder charge and then some. I don't think it gets much closer than that."

Klavier made a little, noncommittal noise in his throat as they entered the kitchen, and jerked his shoulders in a little motion that may have been a shrug. "As a prosecutor, it's my job to see each and every trial through to the truth, ja? Sometimes the truth you seek isn't the one you want, but that doesn't stop it from being true all the same, no matter what it is. Daryan and Kristoph committed crimes, and as a prosecutor, I made sure they were charged accordingly. That's all." He opened the refrigerator as Athena leaned against the island counter in the center of the kitchen, and asked over his shoulder, "What are you in the mood for?"

"Juice, if you have any." Klavier turned to give her a _look _that told her without her saying anything that the insinuation he _wouldn't _have any was ridiculous, and so she added, "What flavors have you got?"

"Mango, kiwi strawberry, papaya, grape and lemon durian."

"Hit me up with some papaya." Klavier grabbed both the papaya and grape juice bottles from the fridge before he closed it with his foot, and Athena frowned. "Anyway, yeah, it's your job as a lawyer to seek out the truth. That's the burden we _all _carry, every time we step in the courtroom. I've heard it a thousand times from Mr Wright, I'm sure you heard it a thousand times from Professor Courte—I get that."

"I'm glad you do," Klavier said, and he flashed her a smile as he poured their juice into wine glasses. "It's comforting, knowing that at least some of the defense attorneys I face in this so-called Dark Age of the Law are trustworthy."

"Yeah, yeah," Athena said, and she waved the notion off. Warm fuzzies were nice, but not when they were carefully set in place, a perfect display like everything else he did, and all to dodge her question, at that. "But this isn't about that and you know it. Those cases were about more than just getting to the truth for you, weren't they? They weren't normal, every day, easy-peasy cases."

Klavier considered her for a moment before he slid her juice glass over to her, and picked up his own before he started to lead the way back to (presumably, on Athena's part) the studio. "Well, Herr Forehead was the defense attorney for both of them, and upon doing some research myself I have noticed that cases involving members of your agency don't tend to be very run-of-the-mill, so that isn't very surprising, is it?"

Athena fought the urge to pour her papaya juice on him out of frustration, if only because it was delicious. "You may have a point there—okay, you _do _have a point there," she amended, as he looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, "but that's not what I meant and you know it. Klavier, both your bandmate and your brother went to prison on cases you prosecuted! That's a big deal!"

"Technically, Kristoph was already _in _prison as a result of another trial," Klavier said as they re-entered the studio. Athena rolled her eyes. "I merely prosecuted a case in which he was indicted for another murder, among other things."

"That's still a big deal," Athena said, and she reclaimed her place on the chaise lounge as Klavier sat on the chair across from it he'd been occupying earlier. He took a drink of his grape juice before he leaned back in the chair, looking relaxed against the cushion.

"I suppose. But you know, _fräulein_, you've been pressing this issue pretty insistently for a little bit now, and I'm a bit curious as to why. You said you had questions you wanted to ask me; what are those questions, specifically?"

Klavier seemed as calm as ever, lounged in the chair as he was, the wine glass held casually in one hand. Athena squeezed the stem of her own and took a sip of her papaya juice in an effort to get her thoughts in order before speaking. It was something Apollo always urged her to do in court, after all, and her psychology professors had worked extra hard to drill the notion that people in need of therapy or psychoanalysis needed and deserved to be treated with sensitivity and thoughtfulness. However at ease Klavier seemed, Athena figured it couldn't hurt to remember both Apollo's dire warnings and her professors' earnest teachings here.

"Okay," she said after a moment, and took a deep breath before continuing. "It's just that—you know about my ability, right? What I can do?"

"Of course. Your fantastic ears have been invaluable in helping me compose new music," he said, and Athena couldn't help it; she returned his smile. "I've always considered myself pretty gifted when it comes to hearing cues and picking up on notes, but your hearing is something else, _fräulein. _Anything that gets your stamp of approval is bound to be perfect."

"Well, "perfect" might be a bit strong of a word . . ." Athena said, and she toyed with the end of her ponytail, her cheeks feeling a bit warm. Klavier's grin grew a little around the rim of his wineglass, and that brought her bashful feeling up short. She cleared her throat. _Back to business. Stay focused, Athena! _"B-But anyway, that's not the point. It's not just music I've got special ears for, you know? It's other things, too. Anything with sound, including voices."

"Mm, I remember seeing that during your trials," Klavier said, and he inclined his head toward her—or rather, she supposed, toward Widget. "You deal in emotions, ja? You can tell what someone is feeling through their voice."

Athena nodded. "Right. The timbre of someone's voice, the tenor . . . I can hear even the tiniest inflections, and over the past eighteen years I've come to get a pretty good grasp on what they mean. It's nothing really crazy like telepathy, but it's good enough in most cases."

"What I've seen has been very impressive."

Athena grinned. "Thanks. But that's the thing." Her grin faded, and she set her glass on a nearby table. "Klavier, in the few months we've been talking, I've noticed something . . . off about you, in your voice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Off?"

"Yeah. To be more specific, it's a little something I usually call _discord. _It's what happens when what a person's feeling doesn't quite match up with what they're saying." Athena sat back on the chaise lounge, and crossed her arms loosely over her stomach. "What's weird about it is that I always hear it with you, though, no matter who you're talking to or what you're saying. It's just . . . there's something _off_, and I wanna know what it is."

"You think I'm lying about something, is that it?" he asked, though it almost sounded like more of a statement than a question. She shook her head.

"No. Well, not exactly. It's more like . . ." She drummed her fingers on the cushion of the lounge and twisted her lips, trying to find the right words, before she sat up a bit straighter. "It's more like you're hiding something, but not something that has to do with whoever you're talking about. Like something's bothering you, but you're pretending that it isn't." Klavier stared at her for a second before he laughed, yet although the laughter surprised her, the fact that it sounded as affected as everything else he said didn't.

"Is that what this is all about? You're worried about me?" he asked. "_Fräulein_, I assure you that I'm fine. Nothing at all is bothering me, except that it's taking a bit longer than it should to receive a parcel I'm expecting. That's all."

"Yeah?" Athena asked, and he nodded. "Well, that discord in your voice just got a whole lot stronger, buddy, so I'd say this has to do with something a whole lot bigger than late mail." Klavier shrugged, and took another sip of his grape juice. "In fact, if I had to pull a Mr Wright and stab blindly in the dark based on gut instinct, I'd say it has everything to do with those past two cases."

"Would you?" he asked, and when she nodded he snorted a laugh. "I suppose this is the point where I'm supposed to demand evidence, though I have to admit I'm really not in the mood to play lawyer right now. Mind if we just pretend I did that and skip to the part where Herr Judge awards you a penalty for being wrong?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Athena said, yet then paused and frowned. "Wait, no, I do mind. I mean, I don't mind the skipping-the-evidence part, but I do mind the penalty part. There's no way I'm taking a penalty over this! I'm not wrong!"

Klavier shrugged. "I'm afraid you'll have to take that up with Herr Judge. He is the one that awards the penalties, after all."

"Yeah, I will, but that can wait," Athena said, and Klavier looked bemused, perhaps wondering if she really was going to challenge the Judge over it the next time they saw one another. (She wasn't, though Athena supposed she might just for laughs if Klavier happened to be present at the time.) "I meant what I said. I know I'm not wrong about this. You act like Mr Hot Shot Cool Guy all the time, like you can bend the universe to your will and nothing ever bothers you, but I know that's not the case. Someone who isn't bothered by anything at all doesn't constantly have discord running through his voice. You're covering something up with that cool guy act, Klavier, and as your friend, I want to get to the bottom of it. So are you going to spill, or not?"

Klavier sighed. "There is nothing to spill. Look, would it make you feel better if I told you, in my own words, what happened with those two cases instead of just agreeing with your assessments?"

"It would be a start," Athena said. Klavier nodded and set his own glass to the side before he sat up straighter in his chair.

"All right then, since it will make you feel better, I will." He looked at her for just a moment before he smiled. "I personally saw to it that my best friend would receive twenty-five to life under our law and potential capital punishment under Borginian law, should they choose to extradite him, for the crimes of smuggling an illegal good and murder. I also prosecuted and thus personally ensured that my brother would be in solitary for the rest of his time on death row for yet another murder charge on top of the one he already had, and learned in that very same trial that he used me to disbar a good attorney seven years ago. That's all."

"And how does that make you feel?" Athena asked quietly, though she already knew the answer and had Widget clasped between her fingers, ready to prove it. Klavier's smile didn't waver.

"I told you, _fräulein_. I'm fine. I always am."

Perhaps, in another circumstance, Athena would have backed off then. The discord was stronger than ever in his voice, betraying his words as much as lying witnesses betrayed themselves through their lies on the stand, but for once it wasn't what she _heard_ that pushed her forward, but instead what she _saw. _She had never noticed it before, and that wasn't surprising given that visual details weren't her forte, but his smile . . . the smile he gave her as he laid out everything that happened and insisted that he was all right was the same glossy smile she saw on every magazine, saw in every interview. The smile that brought to mind camera flashes in eyes, hungry paparazzi, screaming fans. It was the same smile she saw on the stage when he performed at the academy, the same smile he used the few times he stopped for fans when they were out somewhere. The very same glossy, perfectly prepared lie.

For the sake of attempting to restore a status quo, Athena could have maybe, _maybe _let the discord slide, could have convinced herself that maybe he was just grieving, rather than actively bottling it. But the smile chilled her, chilled her right down her spine and settled into an icy pool in her stomach, and so with a heavy heart she pushed herself off the chaise lounge and crossed the room to sit on the armrest of his chair, one finger pressing the button on Widget to activate his hologram.

"I heard what you said," she said, when she noticed him glance questioningly up at her, "but let me take a moment to show you what I heard you _feel_." Two dots and a swoop on the hologram activated the Mood Matrix, and it only took a few seconds for Athena to input Klavier's "testimony." As the words trailed across the holgram, the blue _sadness/fear/despair _sensor lit up (accompanied by the yellow _surprise/anxiety/alarm _sensor when it touched upon how Kristoph had betrayed him seven years previously), and as the Mood Matrix reached the very last line, his assurance that he was fine, the blue light flashed so rapidly the Matrix almost went into overdrive.

"See?" Athena said, and she raised one finger to point at it. Klavier smirked and looked away, though his expression lacked any mirth. "That's not what lights up when someone's telling the truth about being fine, Klavier. If you were really were fine, the green light would be going off instead, but it's not. For someone who's supposedly A-OK with the world, you've got an awful lot of blue."

Klavier said nothing. Instead, he pushed himself up from the chair as Athena deactivated Widget's Mood Matrix, and drained the rest of his grape juice before he walked over to the guitar rack. He examined them for a minute before he selected an acoustic and walked over to the chaise lounge, settling himself down upon it before he rested the acoustic guitar in his lap. He didn't play it immediately. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over the neck of the guitar, staring at it almost absently.

"Do you know what kind of a guitar this is?" he asked suddenly, and Athena furrowed her brow, confused by the sudden shift in conversation (and not altogether sure if she was all right with it).

"An acoustic, right?" Klavier laughed a little under his breath.

"Yes, but I'm talking about the model. It's a Framus 5/194, vintage from the 1960s. Manufactured in Germany. These guitars are rare now, and are fairly expensive because of it. Still, although it is well-made, it isn't the créme de la créme of guitars. It is good, but not excellent. Better suited for informal jams than professional recordings nowadays, ja?"

"Sure," Athena said, a frown on her lips. "But I'm not sure what that has to do with—"

"It was a gift," Klavier interrupted, and it was only now that he started to play, his fingers lightly dancing across the strings, the song soft and beautiful, but somehow remorseful to Athena's ears. "Kristoph purchased this guitar for me as a form of congratulations after I won my first trial." Klavier smiled a little, though once again no real humor lit his eyes. "He never really took much interest in music himself, or at least, not the type of music I preferred playing. Kristoph was always more concerned with violins and cellos—orchestras and symphonies. He never knew much about guitars and didn't know which one would be a good pick, only that this one was decently expensive. Still, it isn't a bad one, and I appreciated it all the same. It was less about the guitar for me, and more about his acknowledgement, as cliché as that might sound."

Athena slid down to sit in the chair proper, watching him. Klavier wasn't looking at her; he was staring at the guitar, watching his fingers pluck out the song on the strings. The song was pretty, but Athena found herself more concerned with Klavier's voice. There was no discord there, now—no distortion, no veil in place to keep his true feelings hidden and contained. He was being open, honest—genuine. And in the face of that, in the face of the opportunity to help him finally let go, Athena found that she couldn't make her own voice much louder than the song he was playing.

"Your first trial . . . that was the one Mr Wright was disbarred in, right?"

"Mm." Klavier was quiet a moment, save for his playing, and Athena almost thought he was going to let the conversation drop there before he said, "Kristoph requested I take the case. To be honest, I didn't want to at first. I wanted . . ." He smiled a bit ruefully. "If you can believe it, I wanted my first trial to be against him. It was always something of a joke in our family, how different we were. How Kristoph was always the collected one, the cool one, while I ran more wild. From my music to his library, we seemed completely opposite. Actually, part of the reason I chose prosecution was to keep up the joke, to lay yet another set of differences between us. And I thought . . ." He tapped his fingers against the wood of his guitar, a light, uneven beat to accompany the song. "I thought it would be interesting, even fun, to face him in the courtroom. Fitting, in a sense. As much as we were opposites, I still wanted his respect. I thought I would earn it in court."

"But you didn't."

"No. Kristoph and I never faced one another, and I agreed to take that case for him since it seemed to be so important to him." Klavier scoffed. "Besides, if an attorney was going to forge evidence, I couldn't allow that to stand, could I? Professor Courte taught me better than that. If someone was going to stain the good name of the courts with forged evidence, then it was my duty to expose him for the fraud he was. I felt I would make both Kristoph and Professor Courte proud if I did that, especially in my first trial. I would truly be living up to what they taught me—or, in Kristoph's case, what was asked of me."

Athena curled her fingers into fists, reining back the bristle of anger she felt at Mr Wright being called a fraud. She knew he wasn't, and by this point she knew that Klavier knew he wasn't, but still, to hear it . . . "And they were proud, weren't they?" she asked. "At the school it seemed like you and Professor Courte were still on good terms right up 'til the day she died, and Kristoph got you that guitar."

"Yes," Klavier said, and his fingers hesitated over the strings a minute, the song breaking off before restarting in a jagged, halting rhythm. "He did . . ."

Klavier didn't need much prompting after that. Strumming the guitar for guidance, he told Athena everything she had wanted to know, and even a lot which she didn't. He told her about how he had his doubts about Mr Wright's guilt even after the trial, but how trying to talk to Kristoph about it had only resulted in a shoulder that was cold enough to convince Klavier he should take some time to tour Europe, away from the American courts. He told her about meeting Daryan, about how Daryan and he hit it off almost immediately, their temperaments on similar wavelengths even if they often argued (or, Klavier reasoned, perhaps _because _they often argued). He told her that Daryan was his best friend not only because they formed the Gavinners together, but because Daryan was the only person Klavier felt that he'd been able to truly open up to and trust, one of the very few people he could be himself around, without worrying about disappointing anyone.

"Even when I shouted at him, it felt all right," he said, "especially since he had no qualms about shouting back. It never felt right to yell at Kristoph, and the other members of the Gavinners . . . I would criticize them if they performed poorly during a set, of course, but I could never really vent to them the way I could to Daryan. The other members and I were bandmates. Daryan and I were friends. There was a difference, a marked one. He . . ." Klavier smiled ruefully, and brushed his hair back. "He really was the best friend I ever had. I never would have expected him to do what he did. Never. I would have bet my life on it that he wouldn't have been capable of doing . . . any of that, really."

"But he did," Athena said softly. Klavier nodded.

"But he did, and now he is in prison for life, provided he isn't extradited to Borginia, where the punishment for what he did is execution." Klavier wasn't playing anymore. Instead, his fingers tapped a slow, steady beat against the neck of the guitar. "And I am the one who put him there."

"You had no other choice," Athena said, and Klavier turned his rueful smile to her for just a moment before he stood up, pacing over to the guitar rack.

"Ah, but that's not the heart of the matter, is it? Yes, I had to follow through and prosecute Daryan, and the same is true for Kristoph. But it isn't . . . it isn't really about that, in the end. You know that well, ja? You can hear it in my voice."

He wasn't facing her to see her nod due to the care he was using to replace the guitar on the rack, so she said, "Yeah. For you it's . . . it's more that they did what they did in the first place, isn't it? Your brother, your best friend . . ."

"Mmhm." Klavier laughed suddenly and turned, his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward a little. "It's a good thing the fangirls got their wish and I stayed single. If I had a lady love in my life, she probably would have turned out to be a murderer, too."

"Not necessarily," Athena said, but for some reason that only caused Klavier to laugh more as he walked back over to the chaise lounge. "But, listen—I know that it can't have been easy for you to hash all of this out, but I think you needed to do it, you know? Kind of like how when you're sick to your stomach throwing up makes you feel better, I think that you needed to get this out. Bottling things up never works. Eventually it explodes, and even if it doesn't, it just eats you up from the inside." Klavier watched her, expression inscrutable, and Athena pressed on before she could second-guess herself and stop. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you don't have to pretend like you're okay all the time. It's okay to not be okay, and it's okay to say when you're not okay, especially to your friends. That's what we're here for."

Klavier looked down, the corners of his lips tilting up. "Ah," he said, "but you forget. Even though I disbanded the Gavinners when Daryan was incarcerated, I'm still a rock star, ja? As far as the world is concerned, I'm still their idol, and idols always smile."

"Well, you're not _my _idol," Athena said bluntly, "so I'm telling you to stop being an idiot and start opening up about how you feel. Maybe you have to put on a stage face for the rest of the world, but your friends aren't the rest of the world, and when it's just us—when we're the only ones here, the only ones watching—it's okay to take the stage face off and just be yourself. In fact, I encourage it."

"It sounds to me more like you're demanding it," Klavier said. Athena shot him a crooked grin.

"Maybe I am." He smiled back, and they shared it a moment before Athena let her smile fall into something a little more serious, a little more earnest. "But I mean it, Klavier. You don't have to do this alone. It's okay to let go sometimes, it's okay to not be okay, and it's okay to let people in. Not everyone will betray you, and a lot of people will care if you care to let them in. You're really not alone."

Klavier considered her for a moment before he laughed softly and looked down, but this time his laughter wasn't mirthless or bitter, even if it still held a hint of ruefulness. "I suppose I could try to let my guard down every once in awhile, hm?" he said. "At least in the presence of certain company." He paused a moment before he looked back up and met her eyes. With the most sincerity she'd heard in his voice since the day they met, he said, "You're a good friend, Athena. Thank you. For all of . . ." He gestured one hand in the air before he let it fall. "This." Athena grinned at him, and this time her grin was broad enough to make her cheeks hurt a little.

"Hey, any time. It's what I'm here for. Besides, I know it goes both ways. If I ever had to splurge my guts about something, I know you'd be there to listen, right?"

"I'd play the accompanying guitar if you wanted to sing it," he said, and she laughed.

"Pretty sure that wouldn't be necessary. I'm not really one to—" a yawn cut her off mid-sentence, but—not one to be deterred by anything once she started speaking, including and especially yawns, Athena continued, "—sing my feelings."

"It is late, isn't it?" Klavier said, and he glanced at the clock on the wall with a frown. "It's nearly two a.m. We spent too long talking."

"It was important," Athena said, but all the same, she could feel a wave of fatigue crashing behind her eyes. "But yeah, I should probably head home. If I'm late again tomorrow I'll be the one responsible for going on the doughnut run _again_, and I'm starting to run low on cash."

"I'll give you a lift home on my motorcycle, then," Klavier said, and he stood up to follow her to the door. "That way we can get you home in record time so you can get enough quality sleep." Athena flashed him a thumbs-up.

"Good thinking, thanks Klavier! Hey, can I drive?"

"Are you kidding?"

Athena puffed out her cheeks in a pout. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course I'm not kidding! I've always wanted to drive a motorcycle."

"Do you even have a motorcycle license?" he asked, grinning in a sort of bemused fashion as he grabbed her jacket from the coat rack by the door and handed it to her. Athena shook her head.

"Nah. The only one in the office who has any sort of vehicle license is Apollo, and he only just recently got his. Still, it's not a big deal. Just like riding a bike, right? I'm sure I could handle it."

"No," Klavier said, and Athena gave him another pout, though he seemed not to notice. "Even if I wasn't protective of my hog, driving it without a license is illegal, and I _am _a prosecutor. You know I couldn't let that stand."

"Killjoy," Athena muttered. Klavier laughed.

"Though maybe, if you have a free day some time soon, I could teach you how to drive it . . ."

"Really?" Athena's eyes lit up as she stepped out of the penthouse apartment, and Klavier locked the door behind them.

"Sure. Then maybe you can pick up Herr Forehead one day at the office, take him on a little joyride around town, maybe see how he reacts to how freely you can change lanes with a bike on the freeway and tell me all about it later . . ."


End file.
